"A martini. Dry." Allison smiled coolly across at him. "And get one for yourself, why don't you?"
Larry grunted under his breath. He signaled to the waiter. "A dry martini, Max."
"Okay, Mr Brewster."
A few minutes later Max returned and set a martini glass on the table. When he had gone, Larry leaned toward the blonde-haired girl. "Now, Miss Holmes --"
"None for you?"
"None for me." Larry watched her sip her drink. Her hands were small and dainty. She wasn't bad-looking, but he didn't like the self-satisfied calmness in her eyes. "What's this business about our time having come? Let me in on it."
"It's very simple. I saw you sitting here and I knew you were the one. In spite of the messy table." She wrinkled her nose at the litter of bottles and match-folders. "Why don't you have them clear it off?"
"Because I enjoy it. You knew I was the one? Which one?" Larry was getting interested. "Go on."
"Larry, this is a very important moment in my life." Allison gazed around her. "Who would think I'd find you in a place like this? But that's the way it's always been for me. This is only one link of a great chain going back -- well, as far back as I can remember."
"What chain is that?"
Allison laughed. "Poor Larry. You don't understand." She leaned toward him, her lovely eyes dancing. "You see, Larry, I know something no one else knows -- no one else in this world. Something I learned when I was a little girl. Something --"
"Wait a minute. What do you mean by 'this world'? You mean there are nicer worlds than this? Better worlds? Like in Plato? This world is only a --"
"Certainly not!" Allison frowned. "This is the best world, Larry. The best of all possible worlds."
"Oh. Herbert Spencer."
"The best of all possible worlds -- for me." She smiled at him, a cold, secret smile.
"Why for you?"
There was something almost predatory in the girl's finely-chiseled face as she answered. "Because," she said calmly, "this is my world."
Larry raised an eyebrow. "Your world?" Then he grinned good-naturedly. "Sure it is, baby; it belongs to all of us." He waved expansively around at the room. "Your world, my world, the banjo player's world --"
"No." Allison shook her head firmly. "No, Larry. My world; it belongs to me. Everything and everybody. All mine." She moved her chair around until she was close by him. He could smell her perfume, warm and sweet and tantalizing. "Don't you understand? This is mine. All these things -- they're here for me; for my happiness."
everybody. All mine." She moved her chair around until she was close by him. He could smell her perfume, warm and sweet and tantalizing. "Don't you understand? This is mine. All these things -- they're here for me; for my happiness."
Allison laid her small hand on his arm. "I don't mean that. You see, Larry, there are many worlds. All kinds of worlds. Millions and millions. As many worlds as there are people. Each person has his own world, Larry, his own private world. A world that exists for him, for his happiness." She lowered her gaze modestly. "This happens to be my world."
Larry considered. "Very interesting, but what about other people? Me, for example."
"You exist for my happiness, of course; that's what I'm talking about." The pressure of her small hand increased. "As soon as I saw you, I knew you were the one. I've been thinking about this for several days now. It's time he came along. The man for me. The man intended for me to marry -- so my happiness can be complete."
"Hey!" Larry exclaimed, drawing back.
"What's wrong?"
"What about me?" Larry demanded. "That's not fair! Doesn't my happiness count?"
"Yes... but not here, not in this world." She gestured vaguely. "You have a world someplace else, a world of your own; in this world you're merely a part of my life. You're not completely real. I'm the only one in this world who's completely real. All the rest of you are here for me. You're just -- just partly real."
"I see." Larry sat back slowly, rubbing his jaw. "Then I sort of exist in a lot of different worlds. A little bit here, a little bit there, according to where I'm needed. Like now, for instance, in this world. I've been wandering around for twenty-five years, just so I could turn up when you needed me."
"That's right." Allison's eyes danced merrily; "you have the idea." Suddenly she glanced at her wristwatch. "It's getting late. We better go."
"Go?"
Allison stood up quickly, picking up her tiny purse and pulling her coat around her. "I want to do so many things with you, Larry! So many places to see! So much to do!" She took hold of his arm. "Come on. Hurry up."
Larry rose slowly. "Say, listen --"
"We're going to have lots of fun." Allison steered him toward the door. "Let's see... What would be nice..."
Larry halted angrily. "The check! I can't just walk out." He fumbled in his pocket. "I owe about --"
"No check; not tonight. This is my special night." Allison spun toward Max, cleaning up the vacated table. "Isn't that right?"
The old waiter looked up slowly. "What's that, Miss?"
"No check tonight."
Max shook his head. "No check tonight, Miss. The boss's birthday; drinks on the house."
Larry gaped. "What?"
"Come on." Allison tugged at him, pulling him through the heavy plush doors, out onto the cold, dark New York sidewalk. "Come on, Larry -- we have so much to do!"
Larry murmured, "I still don't know where that cab came from."
The cab drove off, racing away down the street. Larry looked around. Where were they? The dark streets were silent and deserted.
"First," Allison Holmes said, "I want a corsage. Larry, don't you think you should present your fiancee with a corsage? I want to go in looking nice."
"A corsage? At this time of night?" Larry gestured at the dark, silent streets. "Are you kidding?"
Allison pondered, then she crossed the street, abruptly; Larry followed after her. Allison came up to a closed-up flower shop, its sign off, door locked. She rapped with a coin on the plate glass window.
Allison pondered, then she crossed the street, abruptly; Larry followed after her. Allison came up to a closed-up flower shop, its sign off, door locked. She rapped with a coin on the plate glass window.
In the back of the flower shop somebody stirred. An old man came slowly toward the window, removing his glasses and putting them in his pocket. He bent down and unlocked the door. "What is it, lady?"
"I want a corsage, the best you have." Allison pushed into the shop, gazing around at the flowers in awe.
"Forget it, buddy," Larry murmured; "don't pay any attention to her. She's --"
"That's all right." The old man sighed. "I was going over my income tax; I can use a break. There should be some already made up. I'll open the refrigerator."
Five minutes later they were out on the street again, Allison gazing ecstatically down at the great orchid pinned to her coat. "It's beautiful, Larry!" she whispered. She squeezed his arm, gazing up in his face. "Thanks a lot; now, let's go."
"Where? Maybe you found an old guy sweating over his tax returns at one o'clock in the morning, but I defy you to find anything else in this god-forsaken graveyard."
Allison looked around. "Let's see... Over this way. This big old house over here. I wouldn't be a bit surprised --" She tugged Larry down the sidewalk, her high heels clattering in the night silence.
"All right," Larry murmured, grinning a little. "I'll go along with you; this ought to be interesting."
No light showed in the great square house; all the shades were down. Allison hurried down the walk, feeling her way through the darkness, up onto the porch of the house.